


These Feelings Of Love Will Destroy Us Both

by la_haine_pacifique



Series: Hanahaki Disease - Happy Endings [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, I mean, M/M, This hurt me to write, and was thus inspired to do this, but you know, i read a really sad hanahaki fic, i'm hoping this isn't awful, it's awful for your feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_haine_pacifique/pseuds/la_haine_pacifique
Summary: "The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love. Flowers grow in the respiratory and digestive tracts, feeding on those unrequited feelings. Those afflicted with the disease cough and vomit up petals, leaves, and whole flowers as time goes on. The plants can lead to subsequent suffocation, starvation, or hypovolemia, and subsequent death. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. Alternatively, the disease resolves itself if the feelings are found to be returned."He can barely breathe, choked up on his own feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hipstasmatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipstasmatic/gifts).



_The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love. Flowers grow in the respiratory and digestive tracts, feeding on those unrequited feelings. Those afflicted with the disease cough and vomit up petals, leaves, and whole flowers as time goes on. The plants can lead to subsequent suffocation, starvation, or hypovolemia, and subsequent death. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. Alternatively, the disease resolves itself if the feelings are found to be returned._

 ~

He can barely breathe, choked up on his own feelings. Daichi is walking away, waving at Suga over his shoulder. There’s the silent promise that they’ll reunite in the morning, and while it means much to Daichi, Suga knows that it means even more to himself.

He waits until Daichi is gone before quickly turning his head into his elbow, racked by harsh, wet coughs. It’s hard to ignore the feeling of flowers unfurling in his airway, but he tries, coughing harder to dislodge them. There are three whole flowers and some petals this time.

Suga can’t help but look at the flowers like traitors. They’re yellow tulips, a symbol of one-sided love in Hanakotoba. His mother had given him the saddest smile when he’d asked her about them. Now, weeks later, he just crushes them in his hand before flinging them aside. Maybe his love is one-sided, but that doesn’t make it worth any less. He won’t let a bunch of flowers tell him otherwise.

 ~

The first time he has a coughing fit during school, he’s mortified. It feels like everyone knows what’s happening - that he’s in love and it’s killing him. He doesn’t even bother waiting to be excused, bolting straight from the room. He never thought he would be so glad to have separate classes from Daichi.

The restroom is farther away than it really has a right to be. Suga never even had a chance at making it, collapsing in the hall on his way. The fit is awful. His coughs are forceful, shaking his entire frame as they work through him. The flowers are worse, nearly choking him at times. They get through eventually, though, leaving him staring in horror.

Blood soaked tulips litter the floor, laced with yellow and white Camelia petals. One sided love, longing, and waiting.

Suga _hates_ flowers.

 ~

Breathing is hard. Eating is hard. Sleeping is hard. Living is hard.

Suga’s mom is desperate at this point, begging him to agree to the surgery. The infection can only be removed for another few weeks. After that, his odds of survival will plummet to near zero.

He almost agrees. Sure, he wouldn’t remember any of his feelings for Daichi - hell, he might not remember Daichi at all - but that has to be better than dying. It has to be.

He sees Daichi the next morning, cheerful as always, with a coffee for each of them. He knows it’s probably closer to lukewarm than hot by now, but he doesn’t mind. His heart flutters, touched by Daichi’s constant thoughtfulness, and he knows he coan’t do it. He doesn’t want to forget Daichi, or any of the reasons he had fallen for him. A life without that isn’t one that Suga wants.

Daichi smiles when he takes his cup, and Suga can’t help but smile back. Their fingers don’t brush, but that’s okay. Daichi is close by his side, and they’re already falling into step, taking their time getting to school.

He isn’t even thinking when he says it.

“I’m dying.”

Silence. Deafening, heart wrenching silence.

Daichi looks like he’s about to die himself, hearing those words.

“What is it?”

“I’m sick.” It’s true. Not the entire truth, but all he can bear to reveal. He doesn’t want to see Daichi’s face if he knew that this was because of him.

Daichi doesn’t question it, though. He just takes Suga’s school bag, slinging it over his free shoulder. Suga figures he’s probably lucky that Daichi is even letting him continue to walk right now.

 ~

The worst day of Suga’s life is when Daichi’s parents find him coughing up bloody flowers in their kitchen sink. It’s almost four in the morning, and he’s sure he woke them up. Daichi himself isn’t up, thank god, but his parents finding out about this is almost worse. There’s tulips, camellias, and primroses in their sink, all covered in a healthy layer of blood. He knows he should be worried about this, but he’s still coughing, desperately trying to clear his lungs enough to catch a good, clear breath. It’s not possible, but he’s trying.

Daichi’s mom rubs soft circles into his back, and he wants to tell her not to. His shirt is sweaty and sticking to his back, and he doesn’t want her having to deal with this. She does anyways, though, and it’s a touching moment. Daichi’s dad offers up something called vaporub, and while it clears his sinuses, it doesn’t ease the hurt of loving Daichi any less.

The coughing subsides eventually. Suga is sent back up to bed with hugs from both of Daichi’s parents. He doesn’t think about how sad they’d both looked, or how sad Daichi would have looked. He just thinks about how soft the pillow is under his cheek, trying desperately to ignore the lingering scratch of vines and leaves in his chest.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

 ~

The eight month mark is a rough one. At this stage, there are whole plants lining Suga’s respiratory system. The amount of surgery needed to remove them is almost guaranteed to risk Suga’s life.

There is officially no going back for him.

It hurts, but he doesn't regret the decision. He does feel bad for his mother, though, because she has to watch him suffer like this. She washes his bloody towels and sheets, helps him breathe. She’s the one who calls the ambulance for him one night.

It’s a bad night. Suga’s only half awake when another coughing fit hits him with the force of a bullet train. He cracks three ribs, almost cracking another two. And the blood, god, the blood. Hours after he was done coughing up flowers, he’s still coughing and spitting up blood. He goes hypovolemic at one point, forcing the hospital to up the amount of blood they’d been transfusing.

He’s almost died.

He knows that it’s going to happen, but it still catches him off guard. He’s dying. This is going to kill him.

 ~

His phone rings for the fifth time. It’s from Daichi, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to answer. He’s almost relieved when the phone finally stops, but it starts right back up.

He picks up on the third ring, finally giving in.

“Daichi?”

“Suga, what’s up? Your mom won’t tell me what’s wrong. She said you have to tell me.”

“I’m dying. I told you.”

“From what?”

Suga can’t tell if it’s flowers, guilt, or tears clogging his throat.

“Suga, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Daichi sounds near tears, and it hurts. It’s worse than all the needles and machines he’s hooked up to. It’s almost as bad as the way his mom won’t come visit him now. She just cries and cries, and he doesn’t want to see that.

He doesn’t want to see Daichi cry, either.

Daichi is talking on the phone, but Suga can’t make out the words over the rushing in his ears.

He’s coughing and crying, icy panic filling his veins in the place of the blood he’s losing.

He did this to himself, he knows. It’s his fault that his mom and Daichi are hurting. He could have stopped it, been a better son, a better friend. He was selfish.

Daichi is yelling on the other line. He tries so hard to tell him that he’s okay, but he can’t. His mouth is full of blood and leaves and roots. There’s a whole plant leaving his lungs, he realises.

His last thought is that it hurts worse than he thought it would.

 ~

Suga almost cries when he wakes up. Daichi is in the chair across from his bed, legs tucked up to his chest. He looks exhausted.

“Dai-”

“Hanahaki. You have Hanahaki Disease.”

Suga just nods. He’s fairly certain that Daichi is close to tears, but he can’t tell from here.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” That’s close enough to the truth.

“Why didn’t you get the surgery? Was there ever any hope for resolution?”

He sounds angry, and Suga can’t blame him. He’s mad at himself, too.

“No, there wasn’t, but I didn’t want to forget.”

Daichi is quiet for a moment, eventually unfolding himself from the chair.

“I don’t want to sit here and watch you die.”

Suga just nods, waiting. Daichi doesn’t leave immediately, though, pausing at the door.

“I would have loved you, you know,” he tells Suga.

The words don’t register at first.

“What?”

Daichi just shakes his head.

“If you’d gotten the surgery to forget whoever it was, I would have loved you in their place. I wanted that chance.”

Suga can’t believe his ears.

“But, you -”

“Love my friend.”

Daichi isn’t looking at him, and Suga can’t take this.

“Daichi, Dai, look at me. Come here.”

Daichi turns, but he doesn’t come. He’s biting down on his lip, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

“I wanted to be the person to love you, Suga.”

There are more words coming out of Daichi’s mouth, but he can’t really focus on that right now. He’s trying to gather enough strength to stand, fumbling around with the covers and cords until he’s free enough to plant his feet on the floor. There are hands on his arm, pushing gently, but he doesn’t give in - can’t give in. Some part of him needs to stand for this, to finally tell the truth.

It takes time, but he makes it. He’s standing, unsteadily. Daichi is holding his arms, and there are nurses behind him, reading to put him back in the bed should the need arise. He puts that all out of mind, focusing instead on how close Daichi is. It isn’t hard to bring his head closer to the other’s, but he’s weak and clumsy, knocking his head against Daichi’s instead.

They both laugh, and it’s good. It feels good.

“I wish you had told me that earlier.”

It’s Daichi’s turn to look confused, and honestly, Suga can’t even honor that with an answer. Daichi is just too thick to get the obvious. It’s easier to tilt his head to the side, awkwardly bumping his mouth against Daichi’s. It isn’t good or romantic. Their lips are chapped, and he can still taste blood in his mouth, but it doesn’t matter.

“I love you,” he says, just to make sure the point is clear.

And then they’re both crying. When Suga’s weak knees give out, Daichi takes him down to the floor. He’s pulled unceremoniously into his lap. Daichi hold him close while they laugh and cry.

Suga can feel flowers blooming in his chest, over and over, fast and powerful as fireworks, but it’s good. It’s good.

They’re together, now, and it’s good.

Daichi plants kisses on his head over and over, and god is it good.

It’s good, it’s good, it’s good.

Suga doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this hurt so bad.  
> There's going to be an alternate ending version of this! It's gonna be saaaaadddddd.


End file.
